


A Calm Between Storms

by noxlee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Domestic, Episode: s13e22 Exodus, Gen, I'm Sorry, M/M, No Smut, POV Castiel, Sharing a Bed, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 04:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14633939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlee/pseuds/noxlee
Summary: The bunker is full, and although more spare rooms seem to have sprouted from nowhere, they're all occupied now. The room Castiel sometimes stays in is full of snoring soldiers, and so, through some unspoken arrangement, he finds himself in Dean’s room.“What was he like?” Dean finally asks.“Awful. Cruel, and twisted, and broken beyond repair.”A 13x22 coda.





	A Calm Between Storms

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Затишье между бурями](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14689746) by [TModestova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TModestova/pseuds/TModestova)



> Thanks to [Sophie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zwetschge14) for the beta read!

Castiel feels pretty fortunate, all things considered. They've made it back through the portal in one piece and managed to save dozens of other souls in the process. Lucifer remains trapped on the other side. The loss of Gabriel weighs heavy on him, but he sets his grief aside for now. He doesn't forget about it exactly, just tucks it away inside of himself, not ready yet to examine it.

He will mourn his brother later, privately.

For now, he perches on the edge of the map table next to Dean, who has sprawled out in the languid way he does when he's relaxed and comfortable, feet propped up. He's chatting easily with Charlie and Castiel can't help but smile. Although it's not _their_ Charlie, it's still so good to see her face again. Her laughter fills the room, and with it, Castiel can almost see Dean's spirit growing lighter again.

"Well Cas, I guess you got your party." Sam distributes another round of beer and pats Castiel on the back as he wanders off to speak with Bobby and the other dozens of people that followed them back into the bunker. It's more guests than Castiel can ever remember seeing here at one time when they weren't under attack.

He wonders if he should do something. Set out bowls of chips? Isn't that what you do at parties? He doesn't even know if they have chips in the bunker kitchen though. They did last week, but Dean is likely to have eaten those by now.

He nudges one of the beers at Dean, then slides the other down to Charlie, who is seated on Dean's other side. As she reaches, their fingers brush and Charlie visibly flinches. Castiel pulls his hand back quickly, but the exchange does not go unnoticed by Dean.

"Everything okay?" He shoots a worried glance in Castiel's direction before turning to Charlie.

"Yeah," Charlie says. "It's just… he looks exactly like him. It's creepy. No offense, dude."

"None taken.”

Dean looks between them, confused. "Someone want to clue me in?"

"The other Castiel," Charlie explains. "From our world."

Dean's eyebrows disappear into his hairline and his lips form a perfunctory "o" as he whips around to stare at Castiel. "You got a doppelgänger running around and you didn't think to share with the class?"

"It hardly seemed relevant."

Dean scoffs. "Hardly seemed— wait, what did he do? The other Cas, I mean?"

Charlie doesn't reply, staring fixedly at her hands and picking at the beer label.

"No,” Dean says, and Castiel can see the dawning horror on his face. “No, that can’t be.” Charlie remains silent, and so he turns, and looks imploringly at Castiel.

Castiel sighs. “I'm sorry, Charlie, that you had to experience that. The full extent of heaven's torture is nothing any human should be subject to."

Dean's mouth falls open. “Torture?!”

“Yes,” Cas admits. “But never again. I killed him."

A pained expression passes over Dean's face. His mouth twitches like he wants to say something else, but no words come. Castiel stands, suddenly weary. "Please excuse me."

As he walks away, he hears Charlie whisper to Dean, “I like this one much better.”

\-----

Hours later, Castiel finds himself relieved when people begin to disperse and find places in the bunker to get some sleep. Parties, as it turns out, are an exhausting affair.

The bunker is full, and although more spare rooms seem to have sprouted from nowhere, they're all occupied now. The room Castiel sometimes stays in is full of snoring soldiers, and so, through some unspoken arrangement, he finds himself in Dean’s room.

He doesn’t need sleep, not really. But Dean’s insisting he get some rest, and it’s not a bad idea.

“You okay?” Dean asks, his back turned as he peels off his flannel shirt. His t-shirt rides up, revealing the soft dimple of his lower back.

"Yes." Castiel averts his eyes and busies himself with rummaging through Dean’s rucksack. He unpacks Dean’s weapons, placing them carefully on the shelf above Dean’s bed.

There’s a muttered curse, and Castiel looks up to see Dean struggling to remove his socks, He wobbles on one foot before collapsing onto his bed in a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants. Finally rid of his socks, Dean lets out a loud groan and falls back onto his pillow, stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

Castiel moves to sit next to him, but Dean stops him.

“Lose the shoes, Cas. And ditch the trench while you're at it too."

Castiel toes out of his shoes, and folds his trenchcoat carefully over Dean’s chair. After a moment’s hesitation, he sheds his suit jacket as well, then settles carefully next to Dean in bed, sitting back against the headboard.

Dean folds his hands across his stomach and they settle into a comfortable silence as Castiel chews away at the pork rinds and Dean stares up at the ceiling.

“What was he like?” Dean finally asks.

“Awful. Cruel, and twisted, and broken beyond repair.”

Dean frowns and shimmies to prop himself up on his elbows. “That can’t be possible. You’re good, Cas, right down to your core no matter what the circumstances.”

Castiel snorts derisively and Dean glares at him.

“I mean it, Cas. No matter the universe, no matter how fucked up it is, I find it hard to believe you could be that different. Bobby and Charlie are different, sure, but the core of who they are is still there.”

“Well,” Castiel sighs. “I suppose that’s the thing, isn’t it. Perhaps I’m not that different from him after all. He’d been reprogrammed, you know. Most likely by Naomi or angels like her. I could see the damage in his eye— that one’s a common trick of theirs. He was twitchy and his grace was fragmented, like he’d been broken apart and put back together too many times, and with too many pieces missing. And his wings… those were something awful. Mangled worse than mine, even. Like someone had ripped them out.”

“Cas,” Dean starts, but Castiel cuts him off.

“He was their torturer, did you know? Their expert, brought in to pull information forcefully from human minds.”

“Shit, Cas. That’s—”

“I felt sorry for him,” Castiel says, letting the admission spill from him in a rush. “Worse than that, I understood him. He was everything I could have been. Everything I am.”

“Except you’re not,” Dean insists. “You’re nothing like that.”

“No,” Castiel admits. “I’m changed because of the time I’ve spent on earth in this universe. Because of the relationships I’ve formed. Because I had a cause and something to fight for.”

“Hmm.” Dean yawns. “Well, I’m glad you’re you, Cas. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Dean rolls over and pulls the sheets up to his neck. He lets out another yawn, and Castiel can hear his breathing begin to even out. It isn’t until he can hear soft snores from the other side of the bed that Castiel dares to speak the words:

“I’m changed because of you.”


End file.
